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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204895">Pancakes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalessences/pseuds/Crystalessences'>Crystalessences</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mentalist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Other, Pancakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:28:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalessences/pseuds/Crystalessences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus Pike x gn!reader<br/>Agent Pike finds out you've never had a decent pancake, so he moves to change that.<br/>--<br/>prompt request on tumblr<br/>"Wait wait wait wait… You don’t like pancakes? Okay, that’s it. We’re done.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marcus Pike/Reader, Marcus Pike/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pancakes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Staring at it isn’t going to make a lead magically appear, ya’ know.”</p><p>Marcus jumps in his seat, eyes darting up to your figure in the doorway. “Well apparently it makes you magically appear.”</p><p>Rolling your eyes, you lean against the corner of his desk. “Ha ha, real comedian.”</p><p>“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” he shrugs, leaning back into his plush office chair.</p><p>“Stick to your day job.”</p><p>“Hey! I’m trying to but I’ve got this distraction that won’t go away,” he pouts in mock offense, arms crossed. The messy scruff makes it difficult for you to take him seriously.</p><p>“I’m trying to distract you because you’ve been holed up in here for hours, Marcus. Everyone else has gone home.” You’d been on your way out the door too when you’d noticed his office light was still on. Frustrating cases like these gave Marcus tunnel vision. He cannot see or think of anything but the case, often forgetting to take care of himself in the process. “You need to rest too. You’re no good to the team if you’re dead.”</p><p>“Lil’ missed sleep never killed anyone.”</p><p>“I’m sure there’s some factoid somewhere that would prove you wrong, but that’s not my point, Marcus! When’s the last time you ate?”</p><p>Your boss just sits and stares up at you blankly.</p><p>“See, you can’t even remember!”</p><p>“Well, if you’re still here that means you haven’t eaten either,” he counters. How this child-like man got put in charge of an entire division is beyond you.</p><p>“I had some chips from the vending machines…” Not the best meal you’ve consumed but it would get you by until you got home.</p><p>“Then why are you lecturing me?”</p><p>“Marcus!”</p><p>He holds his hands up in surrender, “’m sorry. I’ll stop.”</p><p>You silently give a cheer for the little successes. Maybe one day he would stop arguing with you over his wellbeing.</p><p>“But seriously, you need to eat too.” Marcus stands and beings collecting his things, “I know a great diner about fifteen minutes from here. They have the best pancakes, you’ll love it.”</p><p>There was the Marcus you had been looking for, the sweet, charismatic man you knew and loved. “Sounds good to me.” You follow him out to the elevators with a grin, “though, do you have any other recommendations besides pancakes?”</p><p>Stepping into the elevator, he looks at you with narrowed eyes, “why?”</p><p>Now this was dicey territory, Marcus’s love of all things breakfast was common knowledge around the office, your distaste was not. No, distaste was too strong a word, you just did not enjoy it like most everyone else.</p><p>“I’m just not feeling pancakes tonight.” You’re so unconvincing you don’t believe yourself.</p><p><em>“Wait wait wait…”</em> Marcus goes wide eyed, “<em>you don’t like pancakes? Okay that’s it. We’re done.”</em> The elevator doors slide open with perfect timing, Marcus struts away with purpose, leaving you in the dust. Your heart drops, you were not expecting that strong of a reaction. It would seem you were headed home for the night after all. Deflated, you hike up your bag and head for the exit.</p><p>“How can you not like pancakes?”</p><p>This time you jump at Marcus’s sudden reappearance. “Christ Marcus! Don’t do that.” Not wise to startle an FBI agent with a gun. “And where did you come from?”</p><p>He waves off your question, “explain it to me, (Y/N). How can there be anything to dislike about pancakes?”</p><p>You sigh as Marcus starts to lead you towards his car. No for your now.</p><p>“It’s not that I don’t like pancakes… I’ve just never had a good pancake, so I tend to avoid them…”</p><p>You swear Marcus looks at you with pity, “never?”</p><p>“Never.”</p><p>“How?” It’s like you can see the gears turning in his head, trying to wrap his mind around it.</p><p>“My parents were not blessed with any sort of cooking skills,” which to their credit they took in stride and found other ways to put dinner on the table for you all, “but for whatever odd reason they insisted on trying to learn to cook breakfast. Every single pancake they tried to make had the consistency of a frisbee… kinda ruined them from then on.”</p><p>“That- yeah that would do it.” Marcus mutters.</p><p>“I get them a new cookbook every year for Christmas. They sit on the coffee table in the living room, never touched.”</p><p>Marcus snorts, “they’re that bad?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>For a moment he looks thoughtful, hands stuffed in his pockets. You can see the wheel turning again. He’s planning something. You’re not sure if you should be worried or not.</p><p>“There are five places in the city that have killer pancakes. We go get one pancake at each place for you to try. If you try all five and still don’t like pancakes, then there is no hope in fixing your troubled past. I won’t bother you about it again.”</p><p>“But?”</p><p>“But what?”</p><p>“It sounded like you were making a bet. What’s the flip side?”</p><p>Marcus grins, “there is no flip side. If you like the pancakes, then we both get to enjoy five to-die-for pancakes together.”</p><p>You cannot argue with that logic. Or spending more time with Marcus. “I like the sound of that.”</p><p>“Great!”</p><p> </p><p>The first place is a quaint hole-in-the-wall café that’s open late, catering to college students and the night shift. Marcus orders plain pancakes and two cups of coffee for you both. He doesn’t even have to ask for your order, already having your coffee preferences memorized. You’ve never understood how he did that. You can barely remember your own order some mornings.</p><p>When the waitress brings out the food you already know Marcus has converted you. They look and smell delicious, what pancakes should actually look like, not hockey pucks. You’re tempted to ask to just stay at the café, no need to go to four other restaurants, but Marcus stops you- “no comments, no reviews. I want to know nothing ‘till we have hit all five places.”</p><p>Your empty plate should be indication enough of your thoughts of the food.</p><p>The second stop is a food truck. A whole food truck dedicated to serving breakfast late at night. You’re surprised Marcus hasn’t given them all his money yet. They serve pancakes rolled up like a cone, filled with fruit, whipped cream and syrup, nearly like a crepe. Marcus fervently assures you it’s still a pancake. You split a strawberry and banana one with him. He teases you when you get whipped cream on your nose.</p><p>The next two places are truck stop diners. Marcus gets you blueberry pancakes and apple cinnamon pancakes. You have to restrain yourself from scarfing them down. Too busy enjoying the food you don’t catch Marcus watching you with a smile plastered on his face.</p><p>You find yourself dreading the last stop, not wanting the night to be over but its hard not to be excited when Marcus pulls into the parking lot. Its an adorable retro 50s themed 24-hour diner. The waitress calls you both hun and gives you a booth in the back corner. Marcus orders chocolate chip pancakes to wrap it all up and your mouth is watering by the time the sweet waitress returns with your food. They are truly decadent, topped in whipped cream, strawberries and chocolate sauce. You cannot decide if it counts as dessert for breakfast or breakfast for dessert. Either way, they taste even better than they look. Marcus had by far saved the best for last.</p><p>“So, what’s the verdict?” His eyes twinkle as he leans in. The grin on his face reminds you of the cat that got the canary.</p><p>Holding your hands up in defeat, you sigh, “alright, you’ve converted me. Those were all absolutely amazing pancakes.”</p><p>You didn’t think his smile could get any bigger. “That is what I like to hear.”</p><p>“I still won’t touch my parents pancakes but I will happily partake next time we go out.”</p><p>Marcus nods, reaching across the table he takes your hand in his, rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “And this all was okay? You had a good night?”</p><p>For an impromptu tour of the towns best late-night spots it had been amazing.</p><p>This time you’re smiling from ear to ear, “I had the best time, Marcus.”</p><p>“So, if I were to ask to do this again sometime?”</p><p>“I would happily say yes, especially if there are more pancakes involved.”</p>
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